


Meet Me Down the River Road

by sailormade



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Brotherly Angst, Coda, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Episode: s2e20 Rock Bottom, F/M, POV Second Person, Season/Series 02, Team as (Broken) Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 03:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20302771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailormade/pseuds/sailormade
Summary: With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, you glance down at the photo on your phone again. It's a blurry selfie of Lisa and Clay at Lisa's OCS graduation. They're pressed cheek to cheek, grinning ear to ear, and your heart aches with such overwhelming affection and uncertainty, adoration and grief, that it causes tears to sting your eyes. Lisa—Officer Davis, now—looks radiant in her stark white uniform, and the warm cinnamon brown of her eyes glow with pride. You love her.You've never thought that before. Certainly never said it. It jars you to the core. You love her. You love her. (If you live through this mission, God help you, you'll try to find the courage within yourself to tell her.)--Coda to s2e20, "Rock Bottom."





	Meet Me Down the River Road

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-Posted from Fanfiction.Net, you can follow me there at ~sailormade.
> 
> Does anyone have any tips for getting ride of writer's block? I've got some stories that I really want to update, but my brain is being a buttmunch. Bleh.
> 
> Oh, and apologies for the ugly, lazy story .gif/banner. I. . . yeah, I got lazy. Lmao.

* * *

An empty beer can skitters across the steel floor of the C-17. Trent is snoring like he's got a damn diesel engine lodged in his throat. Both sounds—_the only sounds_—set your teeth on edge. It's too goddamn quiet in the plane. 

Your name is Petty Officer Sonny Quinn. You won't admit it to anyone, not even to yourself, but you're scared; You're terrified, actually. Not of the hornet's nest that you and Bravo Team are about to HALO jump into, and certainly not of death (you're a Special Warfare Operator, an enlisted sailor in the world's greatest Navy, a red-blooded American—you learned how to die long ago, and you learned to do it bravely), but of what has become of Bravo Team. . . And where Bravo Team seems to be headed. _Disbandment. _

Master Chief Jason Hayes, your steadfast boss; He is slowly but surely bowing under the weight of two very different worlds: grieving widow and father to two heartbroken children, and DEVGRU Team Leader. Jason hasn't broken yet, but you can tell that he's on the verge of a breakdown. You can see it in his short temper, in his sudden reckless decisions and obsessive nature, in the exhaustion that lingers in his eyes (an exhaustion that no amount of sleep can ever cure, an exhaustion that Hell Week during BUD/S couldn't hold a candle to), in the way that he viciously went after his best friend, Ray.

Ray Perry. Bravo Two. You don't recognize the man that Ray has become. He's lost in the darkness, grappling desperately for what little remains of his faith, searching for a hand to hold. . . You wish that it could be yours, but you're not a man of faith. You don't quite know how to console him.

Your name is Sonny Quinn, and you're a man of action. Your faith lies only in the men to the left of you and the men to the right of you. God never did you any favors, but Bravo? Well, they've done everything for you. You try to be there for Ray when you can, but more often than not these days, he pushes you away.

The C-17 is still quiet. The beer can is still skittering around. Trent is still snoring. Jason will no doubt wake him soon, let him know it's almost time to jump.

With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, you glance down at the photo on your phone again. It's a blurry selfie of Lisa and Clay at Lisa's OCS graduation. They're pressed cheek to cheek, grinning ear to ear, and your heart aches with such overwhelming affection and uncertainty, _adoration and grief_, that it causes tears to sting your eyes. Lisa—Officer Davis, now—looks radiant in her stark white uniform, and the warm cinnamon brown of her eyes glow with pride. You love her.

You've never thought that before. Certainly never said it. It jars you to the core. You love her. You love her. (If you live through this mission, God help you, you'll try to find the courage within yourself to tell her.)

Just to her right is Clay Spencer. You love him too. Not in the same way, of course. He's your brother, your family, just like Jason and Ray and Trent and Brock. You wouldn't say that Clay looks radiant too. No, he looks exhausted and world-weary, years of heartbreak evident in his too-young features, but he's smiling a smile that you know is genuine and he looks healthy and whole and safe.

God, how long has it been since you've been able to say that? _Clay Spencer is safe._

You can't wait for the end of this godforsaken deployment. With your two weeks of liberty, you're taking Lisa away for a weekend (give or take a few days), and then you're inviting Clay over for a cookout when the two of you return from. . . wherever. Right now, an afternoon with Lisa, Clay, bison burgers, and ice cold beer is all that you ache for.

A voice cuts through the eerie quiet. It's Lieutenant Commander Blackburn.

"Alright," He says. "Time to get jocked up."

It hurts to look away from the photo, but you do as your told. When duty calls, you answer. Always.

You hold that image of Lisa and Clay in your head, in your heart, in the pit of your damn soul, as you throw yourself out of the C-17 and plunge into icy, abyssal darkness next to the fractured remains of Bravo Team.

Your name is Sonny Quinn, and you're scared to death that you're losing your brothers. You're terrified.


End file.
